Orbit
by Kiyuzanova
Summary: Don't rely on others; the moment you begin to rely on others, you lose sight of yourself. Relevant to episodes 54-55, Tenjo-centric.


**Yu-Gi-Oh! ZEXAL: Orbit  
Rating: **T (PG-13)  
**Pairing:** N/A  
**Warnings/Notes:** Swearing takes place. Extremely weird and selective choices in terms of westernisation of Japanese terms. Too much heightened language compared to what's necessary in prose. Also spoilers for episodes 54-55.

**Summary:** Don't rely on others; the moment you begin to rely on others, you lose sight of yourself. Tenjo-centric.

* * *

The two stand together beside the grand oak, whose roots rise from deep within the earth and branches reach out in feeble canopy. There are gaps that let blinding sunlight stream through, gaps more like gaping holes from limbs snapped in storm. Once a symbol of strength to shelter the fragile ground below, shelter precious remains of one dearly loved, now reduced to near nothing.

"Nii-san," says Haruto, turning, and the jacket draped over his head only reveals bright amber eyes. "Do you think she's happy?"

Kaito looks up, knelt against the earth, shirt drenched in sweat and pants stained to never be salvaged again. He shields his eyes from the light with a bare, dirt-encrusted arm. "Of course."

"Nii-san?"

"What is it, Haruto?"

Haruto turns to speak to his feet, the arms of his brother's jacket clutched tighter under his chin.

"Papa," he says; Kaito flinches, but Haruto cannot see. "When do you – when do you think papa will come to visit maman?"

Kaito turns his face away from the sun, turns his face away from Haruto, to look anywhere but the clumsy gravesite by a stubborn child resolute to doing things all on his own.

"He is not our papa, Haruto. He will never come."

_**I. The bamboo that bends is stronger than the oak that resists.**_

* * *

"You fucking bastard."

Footsteps on linoleum floors. The clanking of rubber soles against steel grates, the echoes of shouts bouncing off corridor walls; cell walls.

"Kaito." A man so brilliant yet so uncomprehending of emotion; a man he never wants to deal with ever again. "Please leave. You should not be here."

"I wouldn't be here if I had a choice, asshole. When are you going to visit—when will Haruto see you again?"

"I have no time for trivialities."

"Trivialities? After you put so much effort into making him this way?"

"I have not—"

"Don't screw around! I've seen the blood reports, ma's blood reports. The ones that were real and not whatever shit you gave her."

"Do not speak of what you do not understand."

"I know enough that you were drugging her while Haruto was being conceived!"

Dr Faker rises to his feet. The man takes several steps forward, and Kaito thrashes against the muscles that were his restraints by guards loyal only to money. It will not be long before the batons are used, before countless volts rush through him; bright light amidst countless electrons into his very core.

And then the man that was his father only by blood stares him in the eyes, and the sheer fury rushing from his form has Kaito stand taller. To match it, to combat it: a fight of wills between two who shared only pride between them.

"You do _not_ understand," says Dr Faker, voice dangerous and low, serpentine. "You will _never_ understand."

"Understand what?" returns Kaito. "That just because you have a _mental disorder_ means you don't have to care about your own son?"

"I do care about you two—"

"Through weekly deposits. You don't even realise ma is dead, you bastard."

Dr Faker froze. "She... my light, when did she..."

Kaito laughs. A shock runs through him, spears of electric plasma entering his veins, red light turning his vision momentarily bloody. The boss has lost, the batons brought forth, an act by guards to shock him into submission and garner both favour and wage increases at the same time; initiative.

And Kaito laughs. Even as his limp body falls to the ground, even as he is dragged from the building and thrown into the rain, and he is lost for words because his lungs no longer work and he can only shake hysterically because there's nothing else for him to do and there's no reason for him to stop at all.

He returns home, eventually, where Haruto is waiting. And nothing else matters: the two of them are together, they would be that way forever.

_**II. Scattered clouds, disappearing mist; leave without a trace. **_

* * *

Heartland is a city with lights too bright to stand, and buildings too toyetic to be real. It is something that belongs more in a storybook; carefree, cheerful, old tragic folktales recreated into trouble-free fairytales. Darkness enshrouded by light.

Amidst the fantasy, Haruto was—Haruto was...

He hears soft footsteps first, then the silky voice follows: "Hello."

Kaito does not turn away from the window, but lessens his focus enough to see the reflection of a young man with braided silver hair, hair golden against the warm lights shining outside, wearing a long, white labcoat promising life to the worst constructs imagination could provide. (Laboratory. Experiments. _Haruto_—)

In the reflection, their eyes meet. The young man smiles.

"I'm Chris. Chris Arklight," he says, not minding the chilly nature of the greeting at all. "You must be Kaito Tenjo, I've been told about you."

"From who?"

"Byron Arklight. My—father." There is a slight hitch to the reply, hesitation half-concealed, and the topic is changed without pause. "Are you enjoying your stay?"

"Did _he_ send you?"

"If you mean Dr Faker, then no. I came of my own volition." Then again, a smile, though Chris closes his eyes; from the reflections, he's hiding away. "As a matter of fact, I'm new to this building also—Kaito, would you like to explore together?"

_**III. Wake from death and return to life.**_

* * *

(( Thanks for reading! :D ))


End file.
